Grey Areas and Expectations
by adorbskatic
Summary: "She separates herself from him, takes a step back, and she can see that he's holding back. His eyes are shining with something, something more than acceptance. It's not okay." A Season 4 AU.
1. Chapter One

_But I wanna sleep next to you_

 _And I wanna come home to you_

 _I wanna hold hands with you_

 _I wanna be close to you_

* * *

Set during Rise

* * *

 _"Everybody is gone, Castle."_

The words linger in the silence that hangs between them.

Kate breaks their eye contact first, pulling her eyes from his to instead focus on a spot on the floor. She wills the tears forming in her eyes not to fall.

"I'm here," he whispers, so quietly she almost doesn't hear it. Almost.

She looks up again, watches him carefully as he stands from his chair.

"I'm still here, Kate," he says again, louder this time – stronger, more confident. It's not the same, she knows it and so does he, but it's something. "We'll find your mom's killer, your shooter, we will. I'm just saying it might not be this time."

He walks over to her, stops when there's only a foot between them.

"I'm here."

She nods, stupidly, but she doesn't know what to say. Not when she's on the verge of breaking, not when he's promising her things that he can never be certain of.

She still has walls, just as she had told him on the swings, but she wants to be close to him, to hug him, to have him hold her in his arms.

 _Screw it._

She takes a step forward, closing the short distance between them, before wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. He doesn't hesitate in hugging her back, immediately enveloping her in his arms, pulling her closer.

"Thank you," she whispers, dropping her head to rest into the crevice between his neck and shoulder, placed perfectly so that she can breathe in the scent of him. It helps her regain her composure. "For everything."

"Of course," he answers, the words muffled by his face in her hair. "Partners."

Partners.

But they're so much more than that.

"We're… we aren't just partners, Rick. We're –" she cuts herself off, because really, what are they? Friends? No. Lovers? Not yet. But they're more than partners. "We're more."

"More," he echoes. "Okay, we're more."

"And I'm sorry… about this summer. I should have called, I just-" she pauses, sighs. It's not enough. "I couldn't."

"It's okay," he replies, and the way he says it makes her almost believe it's true. But she can see through it. There's a layer of something deeper in his tone.

She separates herself from him, takes a step back, and she can see that he's holding back. His eyes are shining with something, something more than acceptance.

It's not okay.

As thankful as she is that he's willing to move past it, what she did shouldn't be considered okay.

She promised to call him and she didn't.

"No," she huffs out, because he should be angry with her. He should be upset. He should be something, but instead he's just forgiving her, being passive, unassertive, as he always is with her; never pushing for anything more. "You have a right to be angry with me. You have a right to want more from me, to want an explanation."

"Okay, you're right. I am angry," he admits quietly. "But being angry or upset over something that we can't change isn't going to do anything."

He has a point. There really is no need to harbour anger, but he shouldn't just forgive her because of that. She wants him to push her. She wants him to expect more from her.

"You're right, it doesn't. But Castle, you don't have to just move on from it. Hell, you shouldn't just move on from it," she pushes, and it surprises her how her actions are the opposite of this summer. She's facing him head on, practically begging him to call her out, when all she did these past few months is run. "If you want to ask me something, ask me. If you're angry with me, express it. I don't want you to forgive me, or lie and say that everything's okay just because it's easier."

God knows her lie is big enough for the two of them.

"Okay, fine," he says after a few moments of contemplation. "I'm angry that you didn't call, I am. I'm trying to understand why you didn't, why you couldn't send a simple text saying 'hey, I'm doing fine, how are you?,' but it's hard, Beckett," He's getting louder now, close to the point of yelling, but it's good. There won't be a ghost of silent anger, resentment, sitting between them. He needs this, she thinks, more than he realizes. "It's hard when I know nothing of what happened over the last three months. It's hard when the last time I saw you, you had almost died."

Rick sinks into the couch when he finishes speaking and it's only then that she realizes they've migrated from her dining room to the living room. She takes advantage of that, lowers herself onto the couch next to him, sitting so that her back hits the armrest, placing a foot between them.

He sighs, lowering his head into his hands, as the adrenaline brought on by his burst of anger drains out of him.

"Do you want me to tell you about it?" she asks quietly after a moment has passed. "About this past summer?"

"Really?" he asks as he turns to look at her, surprise etched on his face. "It wouldn't hurt too much to discuss?"

She pauses. It would... but he deserves this, doesn't he?

"I mean, I'll have to talk about it in therapy right?" she answers with a shrug. She forces a small smile, feigning a nonchalance that she doesn't feel. "It'll be good to get my story straight."

"Okay, if you're sure."

She isn't, but she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes for a moment, and tries to gather her bearings.

She can do this. She can open up. It's the least he deserves.

"A few days before I checked out of the hospital, my dad suggested that I spend some time out of the city," she starts, before launching into the story of her summer. She tries to focus on the physical healing, only touching on the non-visible issues that she had to deal with. She's not yet ready to go into the details of her nightmares, the emotional pain she felt. She avoids talking about the days she had when she struggled to even get out of bed, doesn't mention the difficulty of separating his confession (that he doesn't yet know she heard) from the pain of getting shot.

But she opened up to him, and, for now, she thinks that might be enough.

It's not until almost an hour later when she's finished talking that she notices the tears streaming hotly down her cheeks. She looks down at her lap in a sudden wave of insecurity about what she just revealed, hoping her hair will hide her face as she wipes the tears.

"Thank you. For sharing that with me."

She looks up and sees him smiling softly at her, his eyes shining with something she can't quite place - maybe love - and she returns the smile with a watery one of her own.

"It was…" She almost says nice, but it wasn't. It was hard, painful, but she's glad that it's out there, that there's one less thing hanging between them. "It was needed."

They sit together in silence for a few moments, watching each other, with something hanging in the air between them that she can't quite place. It's not negative, not really, it's just… there.

The ringing of his phone startles them both and the moment is broken. He apologizes, before standing to take the call.

"That was Alexis," he announces, his voice almost solemn, as he returns to the room. "Apparently I missed dinner, so I should go home and talk to her."

Kate doesn't want him to leave, not quite yet, but she understands. She's likely on thin ice with his daughter as it is, so she doesn't necessarily want to add to the tension between them.

"Of course," she replies with a smile that looks just a little too forced as she stands to walk him to the door.

"Thank you, again," he says, as he stands in front of her, his hand already resting on the handle of the door. "For letting me in."

"Anytime," she replies.

He nods, about to turn to leave, but she reaches out, grabs his arm, and stops him.

"Beckett?"

She doesn't say anything, just stares at him for a moment, reads the confusion in his eyes, before taking a step forward and pressing a kiss to his lips.

It's short, just a peck really, but as soon as she pulls back she feels her cheeks reddening. She shouldn't have done it, not when their relationship is as fragile as it is, but she just… needed to. Needed him to know how she felt, even if she couldn't yet bring herself to say it.

Maybe it wasn't the best choice, her smartest decision… but words have always belonged to him, not her. She speaks with actions, and while this one may have been impulsive, she finds that, surprisingly, she doesn't regret it.

"Go home to your daughter," she states, as her eyes meet his. His shock is visible in them, maybe a bit of awe, too, but she doesn't allow him to press, or say anything else as she opens the door for him.

He leaves, promising tomorrow.

She shuts the door behind him, and finds herself leaning against it, her eyes squeezed shut.

Now what?

* * *

A/N: So this is an AU, of sorts, version of season four, where Kate had been more honest with Rick from the beginning. It will essentially look at how different episodes would have happened throughout the season had they been a bit more open with each other from the beginning. Title, as well as inspiration, taken from Troye Sivan's 'Talk Me Down'. Many thanks to Nadia and Bean for beta-ing, love you both lots.


	2. Chapter Two

_Set during Cops & Robbers_

* * *

Kate's chest constricts the moment the bomb goes off. Her breathing shallows, heart races, and oh, god, she's going to have a panic attack. She can't. Not now. Not when Rick, her partner, the man she loves, is in the bank that just blew.

She pushes through the panic, making her way off of the bus and finds herself face to face with the ruins of the building in front of her.

She can't breathe.

Her surroundings begin to blur as the sound of the explosion repeats in her ears. She finds herself stumbling into the bank, following the professionals into something she probably doesn't have the clearance for.

But it's Castle in there, his mother, too, and she needs to get to them, to find them alive.

She calls his name, her voice desperate and hoarse even to her own ears. His name is a mantra on her lips, one that goes unanswered until she hears the faint call of her name, hears his voice and oh, she better not be imagining this.

The SWAT team follows after her as she finds herself taking the lead, running towards his voice, towards him, and the moment she sees him alive and well she finds herself able to breathe once again.

* * *

It's hours later when they find themselves on their way to the loft, everyone alive and well.

She didn't hesitate when he invited her over for a family dinner, not in the slightest, and as she's sitting in the driver's seat with Castle beside her she's thinking maybe she should have.

But he almost died today and things have been going well between them since she came back, since she told him about her summer, so she's allowing it. Allowing herself this taste of what the future could hold for them.

They barely talk on the drive over, but it's been a long day and she knows that they will be surrounded by noise and voices as soon as they step into the loft.

She parks a few blocks away, and as they walk the short distance to the loft, she finds herself orienting closer to him than she would normally allow. They aren't quite touching, but they're close enough that if she were to shift over an inch or so, her body would be flush with his.

They've been touching more recently. Since she kissed him.

Nothing big - the brushing of arms, a hand on his elbow as they're talking, standing just close enough that their shoulders would touch. But it's more than she had allowed in the past.

They still haven't talked about it, although it's not like she really thought they would.

He hasn't pushed her since that day a month and a half ago, hasn't asked her for anything more, and she hasn't offered.

They've been comfortable, normal, and it's felt nice. Safe.

Today scared her, though, and she's not sure if that's enough anymore.

They need to talk, she's sure of that. After dinner, perhaps, when Martha and Alexis are asleep in bed, when there's nothing stopping her from saying what she needs to, from telling him how she feels.

She'll hold off for now, though. She'll sit through dinner with his family, stay just a little bit closer to him than usual, and then they'll talk about all the things that they need to.

She shifts closer to him as they approach his building, closing the little distance between them as she links her index finger with his and gives him a small smile before looking down, allowing her hair to cover the unexpected flush of her cheeks.

He doesn't comment, simply links his hand fully with hers, allowing their palms to meet, as he leads them up the stairs to his building.

* * *

She hears the noise emanating from the loft before she enters; hears the chatter of Alexis and Martha, the spoons clinking against the sides of metal pots, music playing softly, and she swears if she didn't know any better she'd think that there was a party taking place inside.

Rick unlocks the door, holding it open for her as he guides her inside with his hand at her back and she's immediately taken into the older woman's arms. She feels more than hears the whispered thanks being pressed into her hair as Martha's arms pull her in close.

Her partner's mother brings her into the kitchen, pouring her a glass of red, as Rick goes off to talk to his daughter.

"Thank you, again," Martha whispers, as she hands Kate the wine. "I really can't thank you enough for everything you did today, Katherine."

"I -" She pauses. "Of course, Martha."

"Alexis told me what you said to her today," the older woman states as she places her free hand on Kate's forearm. "She really does look up to you. She may not always show it… but she does."

She doesn't know what to say. After this summer, things had been… off between her and Alexis. She understood, she did. She had hurt her father, had put his life in danger one too many times. So she's surprised to hear that the girl looks up to her still, even after recent events.

Kate opens her mouth to reply, hoping something will come out, before Martha stops her.

"Richard does too, you know."

"I'm sorry?" she splutters.

"He looks up to you, admires you… maybe not in the same way, but he does."

She flushes at that, tears her eyes away from Martha's, instead focusing on the wine in her glass.

"I admire him, too," she murmurs, so quietly that it's barely heard. The woman hears anyway, and gives her a soft smile, squeezing her arm before letting go, turning in the direction of her son and granddaughter.

"I know you do," Martha replies. "I think he does, too."

* * *

Dinner is lovely.

The conversation flows more easily than Kate had anticipated. Stories are shared over the table, the air full of laughter and joy, and it's such a juxtaposition from the day's earlier events that they almost slip her mind.

Almost.

The thoughts still linger, though. The close call, the loud shot of the gun, the sound of the explosion, all repeating themselves in her mind.

It's half-past ten when Martha and Alexis excuse themselves, probably only half-lying when they say that it's been a long day and that they need to go to sleep.

Her and Castle sit together in silence for a few moments, glasses of wine in hand, perched on opposite ends of the couch.

She sees him watching her in her peripheral as she stares down at her wine, trying to decide what she needs to say to him. He's trying to get a read on her she assumes, but he won't. Not when she can't really get a read on herself.

"Thank you. For today and..." he says, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. He reaches across the short distance between them, tangles his free hand with hers. She lets him. "For everything else."

Kate's eyes leave their place on her glass, meet his instead and she gives him a small smile, squeezes the fingers intertwined with her own.

"You scared me today, Rick," she admits, her voice quiet, the use of his first name not beyond her. "I -" she sighs. "I wasn't sure we'd make it out this time."

"Hey," he murmurs, his thumb circling the bone of her wrist. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

"Castle," she admonishes, but it does earn him a small smile.

"Come here," he murmurs, giving her hand a light tug, but she hesitates, takes a sip of wine, instead. "Beckett, come on."

She nods, and he plucks the glass of wine from her hand, before placing it, along with his own, on the coffee table in front of them, saving them from a potential spill. He then pulls her into his side, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, the other around her waist. She curls into him, places her head against his chest, her hands fisted in his shirt as if that's all that's keeping him here with her.

"I can't lose you, Rick," she whispers, allows the tears she's been holding back all night to finally spill over. "I can't."

"You won't," he murmurs into her hair. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm here."

She sighs, sinks further into him, and just lets him hold her.

They need to talk still, and they will, she's sure of it, but for now, maybe this is enough.


End file.
